Beguiled
by katybaggins
Summary: Once upon a time in an enchanted forest there lived all classic fairy tale characters. One day they found themselves trapped in a place where there were no happy endings. You know how it happened. Here's how two of them fought to get their ending back. HIATUS
1. Roseanna

_** Beguiled**_

Once upon a time there was an enchanted forest filled with all the classic characters that we know. Or think we know. One day they found themselves trapped in a place where all their happily ever after endings were stolen.

Our world.

You know how it happened,

This is how two of these characters started to fight to get their ending back.

_**Chapter 1-Roseanna**_

_Storybrooke_

On that day when this story begins, eighteen-year-old Roseanna whistled cheerfully. Thursdays were one of the most wonderful days of her entire week. It was one of the only days she got out of her house (which was wonderful in of itself) and when she taught art lessons to some of the town's children. One of them was quite precocious- a boy named Henry, who incidentally was also the son of the town's mayor, Regina Mills. She frowned to herself at the thought of her. She'd never admit it to her mother, but she always felt….somewhat wary of their mayor even though she was one of her mother's friends. But something about her always intimidated her, even though she knew that there was nothing really to be intimated about.

Right?

She decided not to think about it. There was too much to do today before she could leave to teach. She had to clean a lot of their little house, or Mother would be certain to tell her that she couldn't go. She didn't know if she'd be able bear that, so she threw herself into scrubbing every inch of their home.

A few hours later, she was completely finished. Exhausted but exhilarated, she sat down on the couch and petted her sweet cat, Monet (who was incidentally named after one of her favorite artists). "I don't see how Mother could not let me teach today," she told her happily. "I cleaned every inch!" Monet meowed at her. She frowned thoughtfully. "Hmm, I guess I could make some lunch for her too. Surely that would get her in a good mood." She bounded out of her seat, and went into the kitchen, grabbing ingredients for her favorite sandwich and her mother's. Quickly, she pulled them together as fast as she could and set the table. Her mother would be home any second.

And she was. Soon enough she heard her. "Roseanna! I'm hooomee!"

Roseanna jumped to open the door. Patience wasn't among Mother's good traits and she didn't want to annoy her. "Hello, Mother," she greeted her. "Welcome home."

Mother glanced around the house, then patted her shoulder. "The house looks positively wonderful, darling," she said.

Roseanna beamed with pleasure. Did her mother actually appreciate her efforts? Would she thank her?

Mother walked over and peered into the kitchen. "Too bad there's still a bit of a mess in the kitchen, though."

She flushed scarlet. She'd forgotten to clean that up. She cringed, mentally preparing herself for an onslaught. "I'm so sorry, Mother," she apologized. "But I made you a sandwich."

Mother made a tsk-ing sound. "Well…" she said. "I'll let it go this time. But you must not be so forgetful, Rosie."

She wasn't sure she liked being called Rosie. Her name was Roseanna! But she wasn't going to say anything to her. It wasn't worth it. Instead, she stared down at the floor. "Yes, Mother," she said softly, but inwardly she felt quite discouraged. She worked so hard to make the house spotless, but Mother found the one spot that she'd neglected.

Would anything ever be good enough for her?

XxXxXxXx

While they were eating, she asked Mother about the lessons. "So, I can go teach today, right?" she asked hopefully.

Mother took a bite and chewed it particularly slowly. She couldn't be sure but she wondered if she was trying to torture her. If so, it was working: Her stomach was tied in knots. Finally Mother swallowed. "Oh, I guess you can," she said airily. "But I still don't know why you want to spend so much time with little brats anyway."

Roseanna felt her mouth open slightly in surprise. "I….like children," she said meekly. _And I get out of the house, _she added silently.

Mother rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Rosie," she said. "I was just teasing. Stop being so serious!" She pushed her plate away, a clean sign for her to put it in the dishwasher. She did. "You'll give yourself premature wrinkles that way."

As she cleaned up the kitchen, she wasn't sure how to respond. "I understand, Mother," she said softly, staring down at the glass in her hand.

"Good," Mother said. "I'm glad we understand one another."

"Perfectly," she managed. Inwardly though, she thought that she wouldn't mind if her mother was….maybe a little nicer to her, at least some of the time. She was trying her hardest. However, she thought slowly, she guessed that she could do more. After all, if something wasn't perfect, it meant she hadn't done all she should.

"Good," Mother repeated. "I'm going to go take my usual rest before we go." Roseanna nodded in assent as her mother began to walk to her room. She figured she would. "And make sure that everything is cleaned up," she called back. "No messes, Rosie."

She felt rather tired, but she still made sure everything inch of the kitchen was perfect. Afterward, she collapsed on the couch, hoping for a small break.

Instead, her mother told her it was time to go.

XxXxXxXx

However, teaching refreshed her much like it normally did. The children were as sweet and good as they normally were, and the majority of them were eager to learn. She found that she could make more progress than she might have with a different group. Furthermore, their kind words to her and their charming voices affirmed her in a way that her mother did not. Although she loved teaching, her favorite part was talking to them one on one at the end of class.

The last one to greet her was Henry, who seemed to be positively beaming from the inside out. She wondered if that had anything to do with the quite pretty blond woman who stood next to him- who looked around ten years older than herself. She reached out and touched his shoulder. "Good job today, Henry," she said. "I really liked your drawing."

He smiled. "Thanks!" Then he nodded at the woman. "Have you met my-…."

The woman cut in. "I'm Emma," she said. "I'll be taking him home today."

She was sort of surprised at that. Usually, the mayor was quite intent on picking him up. "Oh, all right," she said. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

Emma managed a smile. "Same." Then she turned to Henry. "We should probably go now," she said, and Henry followed her out with a final wave.

She watched them, wondering exactly who Emma was.

And why she had come to Storybrooke.

XxXxXxXx

On the drive back to Henry's home, Emma glanced over at him. "You seem to like her," she said, speaking of Roseanna, the young lady (very young! She couldn't have looked more than eighteen) who taught art.

He smiled. "I do. She's nice," he said, searching in his bag for his very special book. "But she doesn't remember who she is either."

"And just who is she?" Emma asked him. Not that she believed his claim that everyone in Storybrooke was a fairy tale character. Come on. It was too ridiculous. But still, she was curious.

"She's Rapunzel," he said, looking down at his storybook….

XxXxXxXx

_…..After her mother told her she couldn't see the lights, she didn't know what to do with herself. All those years, all those years of waiting, hoping…all of it seemed to vanish in the split second when her mother convinced her that the outside world was just too dangerous. Part of her wondered just how right her mother was. She often came to and from the tower with no problems at all; no bandits or thugs ever hurt her. _

_But, she realized, that was probably because her mother did not have the magical healing hair that she did. Her shoulders slumped in defeat. Of course, and her mother was so much older and more experienced that she was. Maybe….maybe she was better off in the tower. After all, she _was_ a little gullible, a little naïve. Still, she mused, it was the most horrible feeling in the world to realize that you yourself were the reason that you couldn't achieve your dream. Perhaps if she hadn't had so much hair that healed, she could go see the lights. _

_As she lay on her bed, she stared up at the ceiling. She briefly thought about her eighteenth birthday the next day, but it was just too depressing. It'd probably be the same as it always was, and she'd be stuck in the same place she'd always been. Maybe her mother would bring her something, but chances were she might not. She'd even forgotten that her birthday was the next day; who knew if she'd even remember to get her anything. A huge lump welled up in her throat. What kind of birthday would she have anyway? _

_Lost in her gloomy thoughts, she almost missed it-the faintest scratch-scratch outside her tower. She frowned. It couldn't be Mother already; she'd just left. So it had to be…it had to be someone else. A nervous knot formed in her stomach but she forced herself to go down the stairs anyway. The scratching began to grow louder, and her heart beat furiously. Who could be outside her tower? _

_A ruffian. A thug. Or one of the dangerous people her mother had warned her about. Her heart beat rapidly, but she shoved her panic down. She wouldn't let whoever it was get her without a fight. Determined to defend herself, she grabbed her frying pan and vanished as best as she could into the shadows, waiting for the intruder to appear. _

_She didn't have to wait too long. Soon enough a man crawled into her tower. As she crept closer, he sighed loudly. "Alone at last," she heard him say in relief. She didn't know what that meant exactly, and she wasn't sure she wanted to. With all the strength she could muster, she smacked the frying pan into the back of his head. _

_And he fell face-first onto the floor, unconscious.  
>However, that wasn't enough to allay her fears. With a squeal, she hid behind her dress foam, afraid that he might somehow ump up and come after her. When he didn't, she cautiously poked at him with her pan. <em>

_Nothing. He didn't even stir. Her mother's warnings came to her mind and she carefully pulled his lip up- sure that she'd see some kind of scary fangs or pointy teeth. But she didn't see anything like that, just two rows of white and even teeth. Teeth that looked much like her own. She frowned to herself. That was strange. However, maybe not all men had pointy teeth, just some. She flicked the hair out of his eyes and she felt her shoulders relax. He wasn't so frightening asleep. _

_Actually, he wasn't scaring her at all anymore. For one thing, he looked nothing like the burly ruffians and thugs that her mother had always told her lurked in the outside world. In fact, with his soft brown hair, pleasant face, and profound lack of fangs and pointy teeth, he didn't look so intimidating at all. Her panic started to retreat, and in its place was a curiosity as to how he had ended up at her tower in the first place. _

_Before she could contemplate that any further, however, his eyes opened. Almost as quickly, she smacked him over the head again. _

_Without even consciously thinking about it, she knew that she could not leave him out in plain sight. So she tried to shove him into her closet, though that took some doing, considering he was a lot taller and heavier than she was. Thankfully, she had her hair and that assisted her. _

_"Okay," she said to herself. "I've got a person in my closet, I've got a person in my closet." Suddenly, what she had done finally dawned on her: she had managed to capture and imprison the intruder all by herself. "I've got a person…in my closet!" She repeated with gleeful triumph. She smiled at her own reflection in her mirror, certain now that she had stumbled unknowingly on a way to convince Mother that she was strong enough for the outside world. "Too weak to handle myself out there, huh, Mother?" she said, swinging her frying pan as she did. "Well, tell that to my frying pan!" She smacked herself with it accidently, but that did nothing to diminish her joy. _

_As she smiled into her mirror, she noticed something glittering in a satchel behind her. Interested, she took it out and examined it. However, she wasn't entirely sure what to do with it until she realized she was supposed to stick it on her head. But when she put it there, something quite curious happened to her. _

_The….the head thing (or whatever it was called) seemed fit perfectly…almost as if it was made for her. She frowned to herself. How curious was that? Was that even possible? _

_Suddenly a loud voice broke the silence. "Rapunzel! Let down your hair!" _

_Mother was back. _


	2. A Request

**Chapter 2 -Two Requests**

_One Week Later_

Jennifer Rey would always tell you that something felt missing in her life. The problem was she didn't know exactly what it was. Superficially, she had everything that any woman would ever want: a handsome and loving husband who was also a prominent city councilman, a beautiful house, a lot of money ….even the sweetest girl named Cassandra, who was fourteen. They'd adopted her soon after they'd come to Storybrooke, even if she couldn't exactly tell you when that was either. But as much as she loved her life, there always seemed to be a piece to the puzzle that she didn't have, but she didn't know what it was. It was terribly disturbing to miss something, but not even know what that something was. It was almost like having some kind of scratch that you couldn't reach, though it was much more difficult than that. And so it happened that she often brooded around the house, especially when her dear Edward wasn't home, and Cassie was at school. Being alone always tended to bring out her deepest emotions.

Now, Edward was a caring husband and whenever he came home and saw her staring into space, he'd always try to comfort her. Such was the case on that day. Edward found her sitting in her little office, staring at nothing. Cassie had warned him about it as soon as he came home. "Mom's moping again," she'd said.

He hadn't wanted to believe it, but as soon as he saw her, he knew that Cassie was right. For the countless time, his Jenny looked on the verge on tears. Gently he touched her shoulder. "Jenny…what's wrong?"

She felt him put his arms around her, and it made her feel better. But it didn't completely erase her nagging heartache. "Don't you feel that there's something not quite right?" she asked him.

He wasn't sure what to say to his wife. He was happy with things, and as far as he was concerned, they had a wonderful life. "What?"

"I just…" she began, unsure as how to continue. "I just feel like something is not right here. I feel like I'm…I'm missing something."

He looked at her seriously. "Like what?"

Her eyes welled up with tears. "I don't know." She blinked, trying not to cry. "If I knew, maybe I'd know how to find it."

He rubbed her back comfortingly. "Well," he said. "Whatever it is, I always be here for you and help you find it." He took her into his arms again, and as he did, Jenny felt some of her discomfort ease. Surely she had one of the best husbands in the world.

Even if she still longed for something more.

XxXxXxXx

Meanwhile, in another part of town, Roseanna was preparing for her art lesson. And she was so ready to get of her house after another week of boredom. Well, not complete boredom because she generally had enough things to do between cooking, baking, dancing, sketching, chess…. And the many activities she knew how to do. But she was bored with her house, and the unending amount of chores. She loved her mother dearly, but sometimes she wished that her efforts would be more appreciated by her and that she could maybe help out more.

But now was not the time to think about it. Her mother said that she could teach her lesson again today, and she was very excited about seeing her students again. This lesson, she decided to have them work on shading today, and she thought that they'd pick it up very fast. A little thrill passed through her at the thought of it.

Excited, she just bounced around the house the entire day. She was so bouncy, in fact, that Mother grew rather annoyed at her. "Can't you stop fidgeting for once, dear?" she chided. "You know how it irritates me."

Heat rushed to her face and she sat down immediately. "I'm sorry, Mother," she said softly. "I'll try and do better."

And she did. But that didn't mean it was easy at all. She still felt like flitting around the house happily, but she didn't want to make her mother mad. So she restrained herself, and she was rewarded by being able to teach her lesson. But this time she told her mother that she would get there herself, and somehow she managed to convince her.

So it was with a happy heart that she walked there, cheerfully enjoying the fine weather. The birds sang, and the sun smiled down on her.

Much like her students did. They all did especially well that day, and she felt so thrilled with their progress that she thought she could fly. There was nothing better than to have her students really understand what she tried to teach them. However, something new and different was about to happen. Unexpectedly after class, Henry came up to her. "Miss Roseanna," he said. "Can I ask you a favor?"

She smiled at him. "Of course, Henry."

"Will you draw someone for me?" he asked.

That didn't seem like something too hard. Why wouldn't she want to draw? "I'd love to," she said. "Who is it?" Would he ask her to draw his mother?

With all of her, she certainly hoped not.

A flicker of hesitation appeared in his eyes, but he plunged on. As soon as he'd heard his mother and her doctor friend talk about "Joe", he'd known what he'd have to do. "Well," he said. "That's the favor part. It's someone at the hospital, a patient who's in a coma for a while."

That sounded slightly odd to her. Why would he want he want her to draw that? Besides that, why did he even know who was in the hospital? "Henry," she said. "I don't mind helping you. But why is it so important that I draw this one patient?" _Especially a comatose one, _she thought.

"It just is," he told her. He put on his best pleading look. "Please?"

She sighed. She couldn't deny him; not when he looked at her like that. Besides, it's not like drawing was super difficult or a chore for her….. "I guess," she said slowly. "I could. If it means that much to you."

He beamed a huge smile. "Thank you so much!" Then he left quickly (leaving before Roseanna could say much of anything) because Emma was there to pick him up. She had been there longer than Henry had thought she was, and so she had heard the entire thing. As they walked out to the car, she looked at him in curiosity. It was time for some answers. "So why did you want her do to do that?" she asked him softly.

He just smiled at her. "What do you think?" he said. "She needs to draw him to remember who she is."

She had the strongest urge to roll her eyes because of the sheer ridiculousness of it all. "Because she's Rapunzel."

He smiled at her, pleased. _Finally she's getting it, _he thought. "Exactly!"

"But how would drawing this random patient help her?" she asked. She was beginning to love him very much, but she couldn't say that she understood him well, or at all.

His grin grew wider. "Because he's not random at all," he informed her. "He's someone very special to her."

"Like her Prince Charming?" Her voice was as flat as her last attempt to make pancakes.

"Something like that," he said. "Maybe if she sees him she'll remember who he is and how they met…."

XxXxXxXxX

_She hadn't wanted to trick her mother. She really hadn't. Yet it seemed like the only way to possibly see the lights. After her mother told her that she couldn't leave the tower, she was left with two choices: Do what her mother said, and never leave the tower. Or somehow get her mother to leave, question her capture, and see if maybe _he _could take her_. _Of course, that could mean that now she was stuck with some kind of strange man, who wanted to do God knows what with her. So she did the only thing a girl with magic healing hair could do, until she was sure he wasn't crazy:_

_She tied him to a chair with her hair. It would give her a chance to question him without worrying about him somehow attacking her. She enlisted her pet chameleon, Pascal, to wake him up for her while she hid in the shadows. _

_Pascal did so perfectly, but she couldn't help the nervous butterflies in her stomach. Yet she did her best to keep the fear from her voice. She knew that she had to make him think she wasn't afraid. "Resistance….Resistance is _futile_." Her capture made some kind of noise, but she wasn't sure what it was. It might have been a "huh", but she wasn't certain. So she kept talking. "You should know that I'm armed with a very heavy frying pan, and I'm _not _afraid to use it." _

"_What?" she heard him say. _

_Summoning all her courage, she stepped out of the shadows and into the light. "Who are you? Who told you about me?" _

_He blinked slowly. "Um…what?" _

_Deciding that maybe he was a bit dim in the head, she repeated herself slowly. "Who are you? Who told you about me?" _

_He stared at her now, and she found it quite unnerving. Still, she made her face as fierce as she could. "Ah ha," he muttered, then cleared his throat noisily. "Well, my fair maiden, no one told me about you," he said. "But allow me to introduce myself." He paused to give (what seemed to her) a very cocky grin. "The name's Rider. _Flynn _Rider." _

_Was that supposed to mean something to her? He said his name like it was something fantastic, but she had never heard of him. "Well, Flynn Rider," she said. "I honestly could care less who you are. What I want to know is why you're here. Do you want my hair?" She didn't know what she would do if he said yes._

_He grinned at her again and it irritated her. "Okay, listen, Blondie-…." _

_Blondie? _No one _called her Blondie. Who was this character anyway? She firmly put her frying pan in his face. "_Rapunzel."

"_Whatever," he said dismissively. "I don't know anything about hair. Listen. I was in a situation, you know. _Gallivanting_ through the forest…" She resisted the urge to roll her eyes at that. Gallivanting, indeed! Right. She might be innocent, but she wasn't stupid. "I found your tower, and…" he continued. Suddenly a look of complete horror came across his face. "What did you do with my satchel?" _

_She smiled. She knew she had the upper hand, but this just solidified it. Clearly, he wanted that satchel, and she had a feeling he'd do a lot to get it back. Besides that, he had seemed completely confused when she'd mentioned her hair. So he couldn't want it. Right? She decided that she'd just have to trust that he didn't. "Oh, that was yours?" she asked innocently. _

"_Very funny," he said in a flat voice. "Where is it?" _

_Triumphantly, she crossed her arms. "I've hidden it, and you'll _never _find it." _

_She watched him roll his eyes. "Please," he informed her, quite arrogantly. "I could find it with one arm tied behind my back." _

_She had a feeling he probably could. He looked to her like the type who was crafty. Yet she didn't let on. "Maybe you could," she said firmly. "Too bad you are completely tied up." _

_His facial expression instantly changed to the almost charming one when he had first introduced himself. "But you could untie me," he said slyly._

"_Hmmm," she pretended to consider it, even though she had no intention of giving in that easily. "Tell you what. I'll untie you-and give you your satchel- if you agree to my deal." _

_He looked suitably appalled, then he quickly hid it. "And what would that be?" _

"_It's quite simple, really," she said, quickly thinking of a plan. "You take me to see the floating lights, and I'll give you back your satchel." _

_He stared at her for a minute, but then he laughed. "You're kidding, right?" _

_She met his gaze head on. "I never kid." Not true, but she figured it might have the desired result. _

_It didn't. "Well, you'd have to be, to think I'd go near the kingdom again- or their lanterns- ever again," he informed her flatly. _

"_Well," she said, equally flatly. "I guess you won't get your precious satchel then." She didn't know why he was being so obstinate, and it didn't even occur to her then that he actually had a good reason to not take her. "And you know something, _Flynn_?" she said, putting her face right into his. "You could tear this tower apart-brick by brick- but you'd still never find it." _

_He looked at her appraisingly, but she kept her gaze steely. "Let me see if I've got this straight," he said. "I take you to see the lanterns, bring you back here...and you'll give me back my satchel?"_

Finally, he understands,_ she thought to herself. "I promise." He raised an eyebrow at her skeptically. "And when I promise something," she continued. "I never, ever, EVER, break it." His eyebrow still was raised and she found that irritating as well. Why didn't he believe her? "Look," she said impatiently. "I don't even want whatever it is in your satchel. All I want-all I've ever wanted- is to see the lights." _

"_Okay, I didn't want to do this, but I see no other option," he said. He looked down, then back up at her- with the strangest, queerest face she had ever seen. She didn't know how to describe it. Maybe a grumpy face, with a pout thrown in? Well, whatever it was, it didn't have any effect on her. She stared him down sternly. _

_Finally, he sighed. "Oh fine!" he told her grumpily. "I'll take you to see those lanterns!" _

_Despite her best efforts, she let out a squeal. "Really?" After eighteen years of waiting, she was finally going to see the lights!_

* * *

><p>Thanks to everyone who's reviewed, liked, or story-alerted this story! I hope you like this chapter :)<p> 


	3. Meet John Doe

_Chapter 3-Meet John Doe_

Roseanna wasn't entirely sure how she was going to tell her mother about Henry's request. It was entirely possible that her mother would nix the entirely thing.

Involuntarily, she shuddered, imagining how Mother might freak. Well, she thought, she'd just somehow have to make it seem like her mother's idea. But how she was supposed to do that, she wasn't entirely sure. Maybe she could just say she was going to volunteer at the hospital? Wouldn't that work? Wouldn't any normal mother be happy that her daughter would volunteer?

So maybe she should just say she was going to go draw someone at the hospital. Who could object to that? Yes, she thought decidedly. She'd do that. She'd calmly inform her mother that she would be out tomorrow afternoon, but she'd be back in time to make dinner like usual.

And that's just what she did. She expected her mother to have some kind of harsh response, but all she did was look at her blandly and ask her why on earth she wanted to spend her time drawing an invalid, and if it were her, she'd spend more time learning how to be not ditzy and less on wasting her time helping people. After hearing that, Roseanna felt like she'd been slapped. How could her mother think that helping people was ever a waste of time? "I don't think I'm wasting my time," she said meekly. She picked up her plate and rinsed it off. As she did, Monet cuddled around her ankles- clearly her way of trying to make her feel better. Despite her hurt, she almost smiled. What would she do without her sweet cat?

"What are you smiling about?" her mother barked. "You're about to waste an afternoon drawing a practically dead person!"

Honestly. Why did Mother have to be so….crabby? "I'm just thinking about my next drawing," she said blandly.

But whatever. Even if she _did _waste an afternoon, at least it was an afternoon when she could be out of her house. That alone was worth it.

XxXxXxXx

The next afternoon, she found herself staring at an elderly nurse who obviously had never heard of washing her make-up off at night. Or, in other words, she looked like a crab, and proved to be, considering how she talked. "How can I help you?" she said, in a tone that meant anything but. She read her nametag: Mildred. It figured. She never really liked the name Mildred. "Um, yes," Roseanna said. "I'm here to visit a patient."

"Name?" she asked in a bored voice.

"I'm not sure," she said hesitantly. "In fact, I'm not sure anyone knows who he-…"

Instantly, she looked much more interested. "Oh!" Mildred said. "You must mean John Doe II."

"Um, John Doe_ two_?" She thought Henry called him Joe! Why was Mildred calling her John?

"Yes," she said. "Well. We had another John Doe here, but he ended up being David Nolan. So we called him "Joe" for a while until David left. But no one knows who the current John Doe is." She narrowed her eyes. "Why do _you _want to see him?"

"A friend asked me to draw him."

The nurse stared at her for what seemed like an eternity, and Roseanna felt rather uncomfortable. She knew that what she was going to do was strange, but did the nurse have to look at her like she'd grown three heads? Finally Mildred sighed. "Okay," she said. "He's in room 302. Do you need any help finding it?"

Did she need…any help _finding _it? "No," she answered quickly. "I'll be fine." The nurse raised an eyebrow, which irritated her, but she simply smiled before walking away to find his room.

XxXxXxXx

It didn't take her much time to find it, and she quietly let herself in. She situated herself with her pencils and pad, trying to get as comfortable as she could. Suddenly she realized she stupidly hadn't even looked at John Doe. So she looked at him. She blinked in surprise after only a few seconds. She hadn't expected him to be so young! When Henry had asked her, she'd thought maybe the man was middle age or something. But he couldn't be too much older than she was. Brown hair, a pleasant face, straight nose….He'd be fairly easy to draw, that was for sure, despite the paleness of his face. But she figured she'd look like that too if she'd been in a coma. She fiddled around in her bag before picking her favorite pencil.

Roseanna studied him again before she started to draw. You know, he was rather handsome, even though he looked so sick. She wondered if she should draw out the hospital bed, and the IV sticking out of his arm. She probably would. What kind of picture would that be? She couldn't help but wonder why he had ended up here. Wasn't he sort of….young to be in a coma? Maybe he was a victim of some kind of terrible accident, and her heart ached at the thought of it. But she pushed those thoughts out of her mind, and started to sketch. For a while, the only sounds were her own breathing and the soft beep-beep of the machines.

As usual, she lost herself in her drawing, and time seemed irrelevant. That is, until she had drawn so much that her hand began to cramp up. Then, she looked at the clock to see that an hour had passed. It didn't really surprise her much, though she hoped that it wouldn't take her too much longer to finish her drawing. Mother would throw a fit if she wasn't home to make dinner.

She glanced at him as she massaged out her hand. He _was _handsome, especially with those two cute locks of hair that nearly fell into his eyes. She felt…rather sorry that he had been unconscious so long. Surely he had someone who was desperately searching for him. Without thinking about it, she started to talk to him. "I don't know if you can hear me, but I hope you get better real soon." She coughed, feeling slightly ridiculous talking to some comatose person. "Uh, I'm Roseanna, by the way."

Nothing. His eyebrow didn't even twitch. "Anyway," she continued with some measure of self-consciousness. "I'm drawing a picture of you." She let out a nervous laugh. "I'm not sure how good it is," she said, looking down at it. "But Henry seems to think it's important…." She started fiddling with her lines again because the nose wasn't completely right, and lost herself in her work. Without thinking about it, she started to hum.

_And at last I see the light_

_And it's like the fog has lifted_

_And at last I see the light_

_And it's like the sky is new_

_And it's warm and real and bright_

_And the world has somehow shifted_

_All at once, everything is different_

_Now that I see you _

She looked up at him again, to check her work on first his nose, then his eyes. It was terribly hard to draw them, she thought to herself, when she didn't know what color they were or what they looked like. She guessed she'd have to….

Wait. Had his eyes twitched? Had she imagined it? She kept staring at him for a long minute. Then she saw it. The slightest fluttering of his eyes. She immediately bounced out of her seat, leaving her pad and pencils scattered. "Doctor!"

Dr. Whale quickly burst into the room. "For heaven's sake, Roseanna, what's the matter?"

She gestured to John. "He moved his eyes!" she exclaimed.

Dr. Whale glanced at her, then at John and she followed his gaze. Nothing. He looked just like he had when she'd first gotten there: completely still and lifeless. He only raised his eyebrow, but his look completely filled her with embarrassment. Humiliated and feeling like an idiot, her face turned red. "Roseanna," the doctor began in an obviously placating tone. "Have you ever experienced hallucinations or delusions? Maybe faulty vision or-…."

She cut him off. "No," she said emphatically. "No! I never have! I saw him blink, I promise!"

"Roseanna," he continued. "Maybe you should go lie down or something…." He began to push her toward the door. She wrenched herself out of his grip. "No!" she protested. "I don't need to lie down. I'm just fine, and his eyes did move!"

His expression instantly turned stony. "Miss Roseanna," he said firmly. "You have two options here. You can either calm down and leave, or you can persist in your delusions and take a little visit to our psychiatrist. The choice is yours."

Roseanna stared at him in shock. Why was he acting….so mean to her? Why didn't he believe her? As much as she knew what she saw, she did not want to go to a psychiatrist who would undoubtedly tell her mother. "Fine," she said finally. "I'll go." Dr. Whale's face visibly relaxed, and she knew that's what he wanted to hear.

"But…," she continued. "I _know _what I saw. And I think you're making a big mistake."

And then she walked out.

XxXxXxXx

_Rapunzel thought she'd be more ready to leave her tower, but as soon as her elation wore off, she found panic over her mother's reaction in its place. Surely her mother would be furious if she discovered that Rapunzel had left. And who knew what she do to her or what punishment she might come up with for her? Maybe seeing the lanterns wasn't worth it._

_But what if her mother _didn't _find out? What she didn't know wouldn't kill her, right? If the lanterns were tomorrow night, and her mother would come back late the next day, surely she wouldn't even know that Rapunzel had left. _

_On second thought, maybe she would. Maybe it would break her heart to know that Rapunzel had disobeyed her._

_She sighed heavily and tears pricked her eyes. She couldn't do this. Her mother didn't want her to go outside, even forbade her to do it. _

_But what about what _she _wanted? Did she have to live her entire life in a tower because of her mother? _

_Her heart felt torn in two completely directions and she finally buried her head in her hands and cried. What should she do? She continued to sob, and she almost forgot about Flynn until she heard a throat clear behind her. And then she remembered. But it wasn't necessarily a pleasant recalling, and she wondered what he'd say to her now. _

_But his brown eyes almost looked sympathetically at her. "You know," he said in a shockingly kind tone. "I couldn't help but notice you're a little….at war with yourself here."_

_At the gentleness in her voice, she stopped crying and looked up at him. Was she hearing things, or did he actually sound sorry for her? "What?" _

_For a second, he looked like he believed that she thought he was some kind of crazy stalker, when she was wondering more why he cared. He hadn't seemed to care much about her back in the tower. Or at all, really. He seemed only interested in the satchel. "Now, I'm only picking up little pieces here and there," he said. "Over-protective mother, forbidden trip, etc, etc…." _

_She wiped her eyes on her sleeve. "What?" she said again. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask him why her feelings suddenly mattered to him, but she didn't. It wasn't like her to be rude. _

"_But let me ease your conscience," he continued. "This is part of growing up. Sometimes it's good to rebel a little- be your own person." _

_She blinked in surprise. Somehow she had never thought of it that way. She just thought she was a horrible daughter for even thinking of leaving. "You….think?" _

_He gently helped her up. "I know!" he said. "You're totally over-thinking this whole thing, trust me." He looked at her, and her stomach flipped over. "Would this break your mother's heart and crush her soul? Of course! But you've still got to do it!" _

_She didn't even hear the last thing he said. She was too fixed on ….breaking her mother's heart."Break her heart? And crush her….soul?' She couldn't do this; she couldn't hurt her mother. Could she? But what if she didn't find out? _

"_Yep," he said with an almost bored look on his face. "But don't worry, I'm sure she'll get over it." _

_He might have been, but she sure wasn't. "I don't know…."_

"_Well, in that case," he said, picking up her pan and stuck it in her arms with an almost happy look on his face. "Maybe you should stay home. You keep your nice little co-dependent relationship with your mother, I get my satchel." He began to push her toward the direction of the tower. "And everyone's happy." _

_She frowned at that. Not everyone would be happy in that scenario. _She _wouldn't be happy for one, because although she did not want to hurt her mother, she did not want to stay in her tower. With all of her energy, she pushed him away. "No," she insisted. "I will see those lanterns!" _

_His eyes narrowed at her, but she stood firm. She wasn't sure if he realized it, but he had just cemented her decision to go. "Oh, come on," he said impatiently. "What else do I have to do to get my satchel back?" _

_She shoved the frying pan in his face and he instantly held his hands up. "Don't make me use this again." _

_Suddenly, she heard a rustling behind her and everything flew out of her mind but her own safety. So, without thinking, she jumped onto his back and held out her pan in front of her. "Is it ruffians? Thugs?" she asked fearfully. "Have they come for me?" Before he had a chance to respond, a bunny bounced out of the bushes._

"_Stay cool," he said in the flattest voice imaginable. "It can probably smell fear." _

_Her cheeks turned red and she slid off his back. She couldn't believe what she had just done. "Oh," she said bashfully. "I'm sorry. I guess I'm just…..jumpy!" _

_He straightened his shirt. "Probably be best if we stayed away from those ruffians and thugs though." _

_She smiled slightly. "Yeah, that'd probably be best."_

_Abruptly, his face changed to a decidedly pleased one. "Are you hungry?" he asked her. "I know a great place for lunch." _

_That sounded nice, but she felt slightly suspicious. "Where?"_

_He grinned at her. "Oh, don't you worry," he said. "You'll know it when you smell it." _

_XxXxXxXx_

_The walk to….wherever they were going passed quietly, though it wasn't for lack of trying on her part. She tried to engage him in some sort of conversation, but his only responses were practically monosylavic. So she eventually gave up, and instead day-dreamed about the floating lights. She found that much more pleasant that trying to pry one more word out of him. _

_And so it was that she was surprised when they finally reached their destination. "Now, I know it's around here somewhere," Flynn suddenly said. Then he grinned and pointed toward a run-down building squashing by a tree. "Ah, there it is! The Snuggly Duckling." _

_She glanced at it and her stomach churned queasily when she realized that it was not the quaint restaurant she'd hope for._

_What was she in for now? _


	4. Confronting

_**Chapter 4 Confronting**_

Roseanna didn't talk much about her afternoon at the hospital that week. For one, her mother would be upset if she knew that she'd almost been thrown out. For another, she hadn't actually finished the drawing because she'd almost been thrown out. The nose was better, but not quite how she wanted. It was a rather nice nose, and she wanted to capture it accurately. And the eyes….well, those weren't right either. But she supposed that wasn't entirely her fault. It's not as if they were open or anything.

Still, she felt slightly apprehensive when she went to teach her next art lesson. She knew Henry would ask her about the drawing, but she had no idea what she'd tell him. She guessed she'd just give it to him without saying much. And that would be the end of it. She'd never have to go back and see John Doe after that, which was just what she wanted.

Right? In any event, she thought Henry would ask, and she was proven right. As soon as class was over, he came up to her.

"So, Miss Roseanna, how did the drawing go?" He asked.

She didn't know what to say-what to say that would be _pleasant_, that is. She could think of plenty that wasn't. Like: she saw him move his eyes, even though everyone there told her he was a completely comatose patient, and the doctor wanted to send her to meet the psychiatrist? She hadn't been able to finish the drawing because of it? Um, no. "It was fine," she said finally. She dug through her bag and handed it to him.

He studied it intensely for a minute, then looked up at her. "It's really good," he said. "But you didn't finish his eyes."

She knew that, though she wasn't sure if Henry realized that she'd done the best she could. "Um….well," she hedged. _The doctor kicked me out? His eyes weren't even open?_ "I didn't know how to draw them," she finally said, trying to somehow excuse herself. "They were closed, you know. And I wasn't sure what to do. So I-…."

"Brown."

At the apparent non sequitur, she didn't know what to say. Again. Why was it that every time she saw Henry she found herself in a perpetual state of bewilderment? "What?"

"They're brown," he said. At her confused expression, he repeated himself. "His eyes are brown."

She blinked. His eyes were _brown_? "How do you know?"

"I just do," he said simply. "How I do…isn't important. But they are."

Brown? Somehow it almost made sense to her that they would be brown, though why that was she had no idea. "Okay," she said. Brown. _Welcome to the Twilight Zone_, she thought to herself. Things were just getting stranger and stranger. Soon she'd probably find out that she was a long-lost princess or something. She nearly chuckled at the thought of it, mostly because her life was far from a charmed life of a noble. Every day she did tons of chores and every night, including tonight, she cooked dinner for her mother. Which she needed to hurry up and do. "Well, I need to go home, but it was-…."

"Wait!" he said quickly. "I need to ask you something."

"And what's that?" He needed to ask her something…..else?

He pulled a book out of his bag. "Can you go back and read this to him?" he said with a sheepish grin.

Go back? To the doctor who thought she was an escapee from the loony bin or the insane asylum? No thanks! "Henry, you know I don't-…." She tried hard to keep her tone pleasant. And tactful.

"It'll be no big deal," he tried to reassure her.

"Henry," she said patiently. "I'm not sure-…." She couldn't believe that she was faced with this choice again. She couldn't believe she was even entertaining the idea of doing it. But there was just something about John Doe….. Maybe it wouldn't be too bad to see him again.

Maybe.

"Please, Miss Rosanna," he pleaded, with his lip slightly pouted. "Don't you want to help him?"

"Of course," she said. And it was true. She _did _want to help, but she just didn't know how reading would do anything. Besides, she shouldn't give in to Henry's pouting eyes… "But I-….." John Doe's handsome face flashed in her mind. It almost made her feel bad that she was going to say no.

Henry smiled and put a book in her hand. "Good," he said, before bounding away.

"Wait," she cried. She hadn't agreed to do it! "Henry!"She looked down at the book Henry had handed her, and the title on the side, written in gold lettering:

_The Tales of Flynnigan Rider _

XxXxXxXx

Roseanna began to think she must have some kind of problem saying no to people or something, because the next day she was back at the hospital, about to read to John Doe. The nurse looked surprised to see her, but she acted polite enough to her and let her go up to John Doe's room without too much trouble. She nestled in the chair she sat in the last time, and pulled out the book. Before she started reading it, though, she studied him again. No change. He was still pale and lifeless. But he was so handsome, and she wished she could see those brown eyes that Henry had told her about. She wondered if they'd be brown like hazelnuts. She did love hazelnuts.

She blinked. She wasn't here to think about how pretty his eyes might be, she chided herself. She was here to read.

And she did, and she found herself enjoying it. When Henry initially gave her the book, she hadn't expected to find it interesting at all. But _The Tales of Flynnigan Rider _was exciting, intriguing, and fun. There was action, adventure, and even a little romance. It made her almost surprised that he didn't move at all.

But she continued to read, even though he hadn't twitched and she'd reading for at least an hour. Her mother probably would expect her home soon, but surely it wouldn't hurt to finish the chapter. "…_Then Flynnigan burst down the door to save the princess. 'Princess Amelia,' he said with an extravagant bow. 'I have come to rescue you from the wicked sorcerer.' Princess Amelia bolted out of her seat and threw her arms around him gratefully. 'Oh Flynnigan,' she cried. 'I will ever be in your debt. What can I do to repay you?' He smiled at her. 'Oh, my dear princess,' he said. 'There is nothing I wouldn't do for you.' Then he pulled her closer and kissed her. 'Sweetest Amelia,' he said softly in her ear. 'I love you. You are my light, my life, my heart." He kissed her cheek. 'My dream.'" _She sighed a little to herself. This Flynnigan was quite romantic. She wondered if-….

She never finished the thought. Suddenly John reached and put his hand on hers. She stared down at their hands then up at his face. His eyes remained closed, but his lips were slightly turned up, almost as if he were smiling.

She found herself smiling back, even though she knew she should probably get the doctor. But she didn't want to. He would probably think she'd imagined it again. Besides, and she knew it was crazy, but she liked the feeling his hand gave her. And she knew, in some deep recesses of his brain, this story was something he liked. So she kept reading (thoughts of her mother flying out of her head) until Dr. Whale burst in. "What are you doing?" he demanded.

Roseanna almost dropped the book she was so surprised at his sudden arrival. "N-nothing," she stammered. "Just reading to him."

"No?" he said, and gestured to their hands, which she realized were still joined. "Why are you holding his hand?"

"I wasn't," she protested. "I mean, he took mine!" Quickly she tried to pull their hands apart.

Dr. Whale just raised an eyebrow at her. "You expect me to believe that our comatose patient grabbed your hand?"

"Yes!" she insisted. "I was just reading part of this book, and then he reached out and took mine." She tried very hard to keep her annoyance from her voice, but she was growing weary of his condescending attitude.

Dr. Whale's eyebrow was still raised. "I see," he said, in a tone that made her believe he didn't see at all. "You know, Roseanna, and as I've told you before, we do have some nice doctors here who can help those who suffer hallucinations…" He reached out as if to lead her to those "nice doctors." She immediately pulled away.

"No," she almost yelled. "I'm _not _crazy!" She pointed at him. "He _did_ take my hand, just like he _did _blink."

Both Roseanna and Dr. Whale were so intent on their argument that quickly escalated that they didn't even notice the change in their patient.

XxXxXxXx

To him, sleep was something he was very comfortable with- sleep didn't hurt, and the last time he had been fully awake there had been so much hurt he almost couldn't bear it. But now? Now, something was pulling him out of that pleasant haze, or maybe it was like some_one_. Out of the fogginess of his brain, he heard somebody talking to him. He didn't know who it was, but it sounded so familiar. And for the first time in a very long time, he made the effort to open his eyes. He tried once but they felt so heavy. He tried harder and managed to pry them open. He saw two blurry people, and he blinked several times and he finally could tell that one was a young woman with short brown hair and an older man. He opened his mouth to say something, but found his mouth was totally dry. So he tried to ask for some water. "W-Wwww…" Ugh. He sounded like an idiot, and annoyingly enough, he couldn't speak above a whisper.

Of course, that meant that neither what he now assumed was the doctor nor the girl he was talking to heard him. "Calm yourself," the doctor said to her. "Or I'll _insist_ on you seeing a psychiatrist."

The girl's face drained of color. "Okay," she said softly. "I'm calm now. But if you'd just-…"

"Roseanna," the doctor began. Was that her name? It suited her. It was a pretty name, and she looked like a pretty girl. But he still was so thirsty. He swallowed and tried again. "Water…" he croaked.

Instantly, both the doctor and Roseanna stared at him. He couldn't help but notice the differences in their reactions: She looked surprised but then an expression of satisfaction crossed her face. The doctor just looked stunned speechless. He watched Roseanna smile. "Yes, of course," she said. "We'd be happy to get you a glass of water." The doctor continued to stare, so she'd nudged him."Isn't that right, Dr. Whale?"

He blinked slowly. "Of course," he said dully. "I'll ring for the nurse to get one right now. Excuse me." The doctor walked out to get the nurse, leaving him with the girl.

A pretty girl who was smiling at him again. "So, I'm Roseanna," she said, introducing herself. "What's your name?"

He opened his mouth to answer, then realized he had no idea what it was. He didn't remember much of anything, actually. The only thing he remembered before he woke up was pain. Mind-numbing pain that could have killed him. He honestly didn't understand why it hadn't. "I don't know," he said. Ugh. His voice was still so weird. It was all low and crackly. "I don't…..remember."

Her smile faltered, but then she regained it quickly. "Well, that must be nice," she said. "That way you can pick any name you want."

He found himself trying to smile back at her. He wasn't entirely successful. But it would be nice to pick out a name. "True," he said. Why was talking so hard?

She looked at him thoughtfully. "Hmmm…well, you could just call yourself Jason," she suggested shyly. "That's a nice name." She wondered briefly if he remembered taking her hand. She wondered if it even meant anything that he had. She found herself studying him, especially his eyes. Brown. Just like hazelnuts. And just like Henry had said. She wondered how he had known.

"Yes," he said slowly. "It is." He smiled at her, and she almost blushed. It was crazy how flustered she felt around him, yet she felt somewhat at ease too. How that was, she couldn't begin to imagine. "Why are you staring?" he asked her.

_Your eyes are beautiful? _ "I'm not," she stammered. "I just...nothing. You should sleep more."

"I probably should," he said, and she didn't miss how his eyelids started to close.

"I need to get home anyway," She turned to go, but suddenly she felt him grab her hand.

"Wait," he said, his eyes now fully open. "Will…will you come back?"

She stared at him. He was asking her if she'd come back? "Do you want me to?"

He nodded slowly. "Please?"

She smiled. "Well, then I will."

He smiled back at her, and she felt like blushing again. She loved seeing him smile. Somehow it made her really happy. At that, she said goodnight and left the room, only to find Dr. Whale inches from the door. She tried not to look too cross, but she felt like he had been eavesdropping on their conversation.

As it turned out, she was right. "You're going to come back?" Dr. Whale asked.

She resisted saying something irritable. "Yes," she said. "He wants me to."

He muttered something to himself that she couldn't quite hear. "Well, I guess it couldn't hurt. Just don't excite him too much."

She straightened up, using every inch of her height. "Oh, don't worry," she said. "I won't."

And with that she left, leaving the doctor to stare after her. But she didn't really care. It was about time he learned that nobody messed with her.

XxXxXxXx

_Rapunzel tried not to feel too nervous when she walked toward the Snuggly Duckling, she really did. As she grew closer and closer, she felt herself wanting to run in the opposite direction. The place was clearly a pit, and she'd swear it on her magic, glowing healing hair. She was about to tell Flynn so, but before she could she found herself practically shoved through the door by him._

"_Garcon!" he called. "Your finest table, please!" _

_She forced herself to look at the place, though she felt like doing anything but. She cringed. This place was even worse than she'd feared! For one, everything was old, rickety, and about to fall apart- it was a dump. But worse than that was the fact that at every single table were huge, burly men who looked like they could easily snap her in two. _

_Instantly, she yearned to leave, but Flynn kept shoving her further and further into the restaurant (though it was a real stretch to call it that). She thrust her frying pan in front of her, hoping that it could somehow protect her. Her heart pounded, and she couldn't think of any other time she'd been so scared._

_Flynn, on the other hand, seemed to be enjoying himself, but why that was, she couldn't even begin to imagine. "Smell that?" he said to her. "Take a deep breath and let it soak in." _

_She did the opposite. Why would she want to smell it? She'd already had a taste of it when she'd walked in, and it was nothing pleasant, thanks! _

_Flynn took a deep breath, "letting it soak in", she supposed. "Now, what are you getting? Because I'm just getting bad man smell. How about you?" _

_He didn't want to know. Fear and disgust made her stomach roll, and she thought she could maybe heave. The color slowly faded from her face, and her heart started to race. Dimly, at the back of her mind, she thought she might be entering that "fight or flight" stage- and in her case, she knew she'd take the flight option._

_He noticed her fright and he looked pensively at her. "Hmmm," he said. "You don't look so hot, Blondie. Maybe I should get you home." He gestured around. "This is one of the top places around, after all."_

_Part of her had a very hard time believing that, yet she allowed him to push her toward the door. It wasn't as if she really wanted to stay here either, but somehow she had to convince him to still take her to the lights. She would not give up on that._

_While she was considering how best to do that, Flynn was suddenly grabbed by the thugs, and when she finally looked for him, he was practically torn apart by the thugs, arguing over who would get the reward for finding him (since he apparently was a very wanted thief), and one left to go find the guards._

_Though she didn't feel particularly fond of Flynn at that moment, she tried her best to get the thugs to stop beating him up. He was only one who could take her to the lanterns. "Hey!" she cried, smacking them with her pan. "Stop that! Give me back my guide!" They completely ignored her, but she wasn't one to give up without trying everything in her power. Her gaze wandered up to the ceiling, and she suddenly got an idea. She threw her hair around the wooden chandelier and gave it a big, hard yank-which in turn caused it to hit the hook hand thug in the head. _

_Suddenly, all of their eyes were on her. Could she just say that there was nothing scarier than innumerable thug eyes all on you? But she forced herself to say something, and not run away. "Okay, look," she began. "I don't know where I am, or anything, and so I need him"-she gestured at Flynn- "to take me to see the lanterns because I've been dreaming about them my whole life!" She held out her hands. "Find your inner humanity! Haven't any of you had a dream?" _

_A thug with a hook for a hand started storming up to her with a very large axe in his hand, and she backed up in intimidation. Would he hurt her? She braced herself for a hit, but instead she heard him speak in a very quiet voice. "I had a dream once."_

_She couldn't believe her ears. "What?" _

_He repeated himself with a small smile. "I had a dream once," he said. "I wanted to be a concert pianist."_

_Like water from a dam, all the other thugs began to tell them their dreams too. She tried to listen attentively, but she couldn't help but wonder what her companion's dream was._

_Apparently the other thugs shared her wonderings, because they asked him outright what his was. At first he scoffed, but he became decidedly open when they thrust their swords in his face._

"_I'd like to own an island," he said. "And be tanned, rested, and ALONE, surrounded by piles and piles of money."_

_Well. That was a perfectly _horrid_ dream, and she might have told him so, except the door was burst open by another thug._

_And he _didn't _bear good news. _


End file.
